Now it's tattooed girls with a past they can't remember, Who pledged allegiance to a life of bending the curriculum.She tastes like spring, there she goes again, Drinking with the older guys, tripping by the lakeside.

When you were sweet sixteen, I was already mean andFeeling bad for giving it up to the man just to make the scene.Where were you, back when I had something to prove, With the switchblade set and the church kids learning my moves?

I ran for miles through the suburbs of the seventies, Pollen dust and Pixie sticks, kissing in the deep endOf swimming pools before I knew what's in there.We come into this life waterlogged and tender.